


The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Stomach (Especially if Said Heart Belongs to Murphy)

by wibblywobblyfandom



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, bellamy really likes savoury pancakes, murphy really likes bellamy, p much nothing but fluff what a couple of dorks, they're both giant nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblyfandom/pseuds/wibblywobblyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy's not having a great day. It's raining, he left his keys in the house, his mom's too drunk to let him in, and some really hot asshole just made him fall out of a tree.<br/>Luckily, said hot asshole is really good at making pancakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through His Stomach (Especially if Said Heart Belongs to Murphy)

**Author's Note:**

> I screwed around with the ages in this AU to make the age gap a little smaller, so Murphy is in his last year of high school, Bellamy is in his first year of university, and Octavia is just out of middle school.

Murphy heaved out a sigh as he trudged up the path to his front door. It was safe to say he’d had a pretty shit day to end a pretty shit week, and the world seemed to agree. Dark clouds smothered the sky, the wind was throwing leaves around the streets like a toddler having a tantrum, and it was raining in the sort of way that made it feel as though the whole planet was grumbling. Although, of course, it hadn’t started raining until the second Murphy stepped off of the broken-down bus a twenty minute walk away from his house. Thanks, Earth.                                    

He ducked under the porch and shook the water from his hair like a dog- not that it made much of a difference to how cold he was. The steady downpour had soaked Murphy to the bone, and had likely leaked through his schoolbag to destroy the homework sheets he’d taken home in a fit of uncharacteristic hope that he might actually have enough time to finish them.

With yet another sigh, he slung the bag around to his front and dug around in its pockets, trying to persuade his numb fingers to make contact with the cold metal keys he’d thrown in there that morning. When they scraped against nothing but thinning material he let out a low curse and remembered that in his rush to get ready that morning he’d left his keys sitting on the wobbly desk in front of his window.

Murphy took a breath and raised his fist before pounding it repeatedly against the cracked wood of his front door.

“Mom! Can you come open the door? Please?” he called out, hoping that the sole inhabitant of the house might actually hear him. If he was being honest with himself, it was probably a waste of breath to even consider asking his perpetually-drunk mom to get up from her indent in the couch. At least he'd tried.

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer, and he moved to look in through the front window. He found his mom right where he expected her to be- passed out on the couch surrounded by empty beer bottles, with a shitty daytime soap blaring on the TV in front of her. He begrudgingly left the meager shelter of his front porch and ploughed through the long, uncut grass to reach the side of his house and the old tree outside his window, which was looking more tired than ever now that winter had stripped it of its leaves. Grumbling under his breath to himself about nothing in particular, he dumped his bag at the tree’s base and hauled himself onto its lower branches.

He scrambled up to the limb nearest his window and slowly scooted along it, getting his trousers wet in the process, but he couldn't really bring himself to care considering that the alternative was falling. Wet pants were Future Murphy's problem, not his. The branch stopped just short of suitable reaching distance to his window, and he swore as he balanced precariously on the end and tried to reach his arm to the window sill. If he could just push the window open a fraction, maybe he could crawl inside somehow and not have to spend the night on the creaky bench in the backyard.

The wind seemed to be against this idea, however, as it chose that moment to blow stronger than ever and the branch Murphy was positioned so carefully on swayed. He let out a long, high-pitched string of curse words and scratched his fingers along the bark, trying to find some sort of grip. Miraculously, he managed to stay on long enough for the branch to stop moving, and let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Hey!” The loud shout startled Murphy and he jolted, toppling himself out of the tree with a squawk of surprise. He landed with a huff, his fall thankfully broken by some overgrown bushes he’d have to remember to give a bit of a water later as thanks for stopping him from breaking his neck.

“Shit, are you okay?” the voice called. A few seconds later, a guy who looked only a couple of years older than Murphy came into view, towering above his position in the bushes. He had dark hair that had clearly once been curly but was now just wet, and a smattering of freckles across the tan skin of his face. Eyes the colour of burnt coffee squinted down at him in a strange emotion, a mixture of concern and anger and maybe even a little bit of surprise. It was a nice look on him, but Murphy was too preoccupied with being angry at the asshole for making him fall out of a tree to look into it much further.

The guy’s ridiculously large hands took hold of both his arms and pulled him to his feet a little rougher than was probably necessary. It made his biceps bulge in his blue t-shirt, which was nice, but Murphy wasn’t gonna forgive him just because he had nice arms. Really, _really_ nice arms.

“I’m fine, no thanks to you,” Murphy spat, wrenching out of his grip and stumbling back a couple steps. The guy’s expression turned from concern to anger, and he folded his arms in front of him. Those fucking _biceps_.

“Great. I’m gonna assume that means you have a perfectly good explanation as to why you were breaking into this house, correct?” Bicep Guy growled, and Murphy honestly couldn't believe that someone this hot could be so much of a dick.

“It’s my own house, jackass! I forgot my keys and I was trying to get in through the window, fucking hell,” he choked out a laugh that was closer to a snarl than anything even remotely resembling happiness, and glared right into the guy’s eyes.

“Don’t give me that shit, the TV was on, someone’s clearly home.” To Murphy’s annoyance, the guy was still squinting suspiciously at him, and he scoffed.

“Right, like my wasted mom is gonna be fucked getting up to let me in the door. Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but all I’m trying to do is avoid spending the night outside in the pouring rain, so you can either help me or take your stupid superiority complex and fuck the fuck off.”

To his credit, the guy looked almost guilty for accusing Murphy of breaking into his own house. There was an awkward silence and some shuffling of feet, before he opened his mouth.

“You could sleep at my place. I mean, we’ve got a spare bed, and there’s no use in you breaking your neck trying to climb through the window.” The guy seemed kind of nervous, reaching his hand up to rub the back of his neck in a way that was trying too hard to be casual. “Besides, it’s almost dinner time and I can’t let you go all night without eating.”

Murphy wanted to say no, wanted to laugh in this guy’s face and tell him to screw off because he didn’t need help from anyone, let alone some asshole who'd made him fall out of a tree, but his stomach chose that moment to let out an embarrassingly loud rumble. He cursed his body for betraying him and pointing out his hunger at such an inconvenient time, but the guy only smirked (holy shit that _mouth_ ) and turned to walk away, clearly expecting Murphy to follow.

“The name’s Bellamy, by the way.” His voice was smug as he called over his shoulder. Murphy shrugged and figured that as long as the guy was feeding him, he might as well be civil.

“Murphy.”

~~~

As it turned out, Bellamy lived right next door, so it wasn’t long before Murphy was being welcomed into his small and very clean home.

“My sister’s staying at her friend’s place tonight, so we’ve got the house to ourselves,” Bellamy explained as they entered, stepping through the threshold after Murphy.  

“Parents?”

“Gone.” His face grew a little dark, and Murphy felt the need to make up for it even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong.

“Me too. Well, mom’s still around, but I don’t think being passed out on the couch 24/7 counts as being there for your kid.”

Bellamy nodded, and Murphy was grateful that he hadn’t smothered him in pity the way others were prone to doing when they heard. He took in the old but comfortable-looking couch, the threadbare rug on the floor and the picture of a young girl at her middle school graduation sitting proudly on the mantelpiece, and decided he liked Bellamy, despite the whole falling-out-of-a-tree-and-accusing-him-of-breaking-in-to-his-own-house thing.

Murphy followed Bellamy when he walked into the small kitchen, wet sneakers squelching on the linoleum floor. Suddenly, he remembered just how soaking wet he was, and let out an involuntary shudder as a droplet of icy-cold water dripped down the back of his neck. Annoyingly enough, Bellamy didn’t miss the shiver, and stopped suddenly in the middle of getting out frying pan from one of the cupboards

“Shit, you’re drenched! Let me get you something dry to wear.”

Suddenly Bellamy was gone, striding through the house and thundering up the stairs. He was back in less than a minute, holding a bundle of clothes in his hand.

“Sorry, they’re probably too big, but they’re the smallest I’ve got and I figured you wouldn’t be interested in wearing anything of Octavia’s.”

Murphy gave him a crooked smile and slipped into the bathroom to change. Bellamy was right and he was practically swimming in the clothes, but they were soft and warm and they smelled like Bellamy- who, apparently, rolled in cinnamon and pine needles every day because _holy_ _shit how you smell like that without living in a goddamn forest?_

He walked back into the kitchen to find Bellamy standing at the stove, overseeing something that was sizzling away in a frypan. He turned when Murphy entered, and it might have been wishful thinking but he swore that Bellamy’s eyes lingered a little too long on the way the hoodie framed Murphy’s skinny shoulders and fell past his wrists so only the tips of his fingers were poking out. Murphy took a seat as Bellamy added what looked like bacon to whatever was cooking, and there was silence for a minute or two before he decided to find out exactly what he would be eating for dinner.

“Pancakes? Really?” Murphy laughed, and Bellamy turned to him with a grin on his face.

“Why, you complaining?”

“No way, I haven’t had anything other than microwave pizza and two-minute noodles for dinner in _months_. Just a little surprised, is all. Aren’t pancakes meant to be, y’know, a breakfast food?”

“How dare you! These are _savoury_ pancakes, okay? They’re perfectly fine for dinner! Besides, I’m in my first year of college, there aren't exactly a lot of opportunities to make three-course meals.” Murphy snickered at the mock-offended look on Bellamy’s face.

“What’re you studying?” he questioned, not wanting to slip back into an awkward silence.

“Ancient History, with an emphasis on the Roman Empire. It’s a really interesting topic; the Romans were so advanced for their time. Did you know that they basically invente-” Bellamy paused for a second as Murphy struggled to control his sniggering. “Why are you laughing? It’s a serious topic!”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just didn’t peg you as the type to be such a goddamn _nerd,_ to be honest,” he said, and started laughing outright at the taken aback expression on Bellamy’s face.

“I’m not a nerd, the Romans were hardcore as fuck! They literally watched people battle each other to the death for entertainment! Have you _seen_ Gladiator? I mean, that movie is ridiculously inaccurate so it's probably not the best example, but my point still stands. Roman people were _vicious._ ” Bellamy seemed determined to prove Murphy wrong, so he schooled his features into something a little more neutral looking.

“Whatever you say, Bellamy. Whatever you say,” he said, only just concealing the laughter in his voice.

Bellamy turned back to the stove, switching off the gas and turning to get two plates from a drawer nearby.

“Whatever. Dinner’s ready anyway, and I’m going to make you eat your words about my savoury pancakes. Pun intended,” Bellamy said as he finished dishing up and placed the plate in front of Murphy along with some cutlery, which was ignored in favour of just grabbing the pancake and holding it to his mouth. Bellamy took the seat next to him and waited expectantly as Murphy took his first bite, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Murphy’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out an embarrassingly loud moan, chewing slowly enough to truly appreciate the mastery that was Bellamy’s cooking. He opened his eyes to find Bellamy’s face less than 30 cm away, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Well?”

“This is without a doubt the worst food I have ever eaten. You’re a horrible chef and I’m going to sue you for destroying my taste buds with this disgusting pancake,” Murphy drawled, praising Bellamy in the only way he knew how - with sarcasm and no small dose of exaggeration. Luckily, the other didn’t seem to mind, because his face split into the biggest grin Murphy had ever seen and he pumped his fist in victory.

“Yes! Another convert to the beauty that is savoury pancakes. Your world has been changed for the better, my friend.” They grinned at each other for a second and their eyes met. Bellamy’s sparkled with mirth, and Murphy couldn’t believe he was this unabashedly happy over a pancake. Something softened behind Bellamy’s gaze, and slowly their smiles faded- but the happiness in their eyes stayed. Murphy became aware that they’d probably been staring at each other for too long for things to go back to normal after they broke away, and as he saw the other’s brown eyes flicker down to his lips for a fraction of a second, his mind was made.

_Fuck it_ , he thought, and surged forwards to capture Bellamy’s lips with his own. Bellamy stiffened, and for a moment Murphy thought he’d misread the signs, thought he’d really fucked up this time, but suddenly he came to life and pushed his lips harder against Murphy’s, urging him to move a little. The kiss was not entirely slow, but it was gentle, and Bellamy’s hands fell to hold his hips as they turned. Murphy’s knees fit between Bellamy’s, and the kiss changed as they found better access, becoming deeper, slower, but still as gentle as before. Murphy sighed and reached up to tangle his hands into Bellamy’s curls, still slightly damp from the rain but incredibly soft. Bellamy tasted sweet and smoother than honey, and Murphy decided that if he had to choose a moment to live in forever, this would be it. One of Bellamy’s hands had found its way to the back of Murphy’s neck, and as they broke the kiss they pressed their foreheads together, panting softly.

“If you kiss me like that every time I make pancakes, I may never cook anything else ever again,” Bellamy chuckled, and Murphy huffed out a laugh.

“If you make me pancakes every time we kiss like that, I may never stop kissing you.”

“Good.”

They grinned at each other, and Murphy leaned back in his chair.

“What’s your last name, anyway?” he asked

“Blake. Bellamy Blake. I know it sounds kinda dumb, there’s too many “B”s and “L”s, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”

“Nah, you’re good. The alliteration kinda makes up for it,” Murphy said as nonchalantly as possible, silently hoping to impress Bellamy with his knowledge.

“Oh my god! Oh my _god!_ I can’t believe you had the nerve to call me a nerd when you just called my name cool because it’s _alliterated_ ,” Bellamy laughed, and he pouted. “Murphy, I think it’s fair to say that you’re as big a nerd as I am- maybe even more. At least Romans are badass!” Murphy rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Bellamy’s just to shut him up. Bellamy smiled against his mouth and it made Murphy smile too, and they ended up laughing more than they were kissing. Murphy turned his head a little and moved his mouth to Bellamy’s ear, hovering just over it.

“My first name’s John,” he breathed.

Bellamy pulled back to look him in the eyes before smiling again, and Murphy recognised an emotion he hadn’t seen directed his way in a while- love.

They spent the rest of the night talking, getting to know each other. They watched _Star Wars: A New Hope_ because Murphy was appalled that Bellamy had never seen it, and Bellamy played him a few songs on his guitar, and at around midnight they made pancakes again because, according to Bellamy, “why the fuck not?”

Murphy found himself smiling more in those few hours than he had in the whole week- so much so that he only argued a little at Bellamy’s insistence that Murphy be the little spoon when they tumbled into bed at 2 am, and so much so that when he woke the next morning to find a soft, sleepy Bellamy looking down at him, he didn’t even hesitate to lean up and kiss him. He smiled softly at the quiet noise Bellamy made as he pulled away, and reached up his arm to intertwine their fingers.

“So pancakes for breakfast?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm so sorry if this is bad, it's the first fanfic I've ever written, and I'm kind of clueless about how posting stories to AO3 works.  
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> P.S. Thank you to my buddies Captain_Hughes_ZU and blueparacosm for reading through this for me and helping me iron out any weird parts! You guys are gr9.


End file.
